I rudely interrupt her. “I’m available.”
That’s all I say. I can barely look at her. I can barely see straight, I’m so jealous. Which is stupid. We’re not together. Ellie is always just…there, and I took advantage of that. Expecting her to wait for me. Knowing deep down, I could never be what she needed.
Maybe that’s not true, though. Maybe I do want her. I sure as hell don’t want her with anyone else. That’s some straight-up bullshit. I can barely handle the thought of her being with another guy, like that wimpy Carson. He seems nice enough, but fuck that. He doesn’t know her like I do. He doesn’t understand her like I do either.
“I’ll text you when I’m off work.” She hands me the credit card slip and a pen and I scrawl my signature across the piece of paper, thrusting it toward her.
“You do that,” I bite out, storming away from the counter before she can even hand me my receipt. I head for our table, glancing over at the bar, where Chuck stands. He waves at me and I do the same, the need for alcohol suddenly consuming me. I wish I was twenty-one. I wish I could order a beer. A couple of shots. What the fuck ever I can get my hands on.
“We got alcohol at the house?” I ask Eli when I join them at the table.
Eli shrugs. “Maybe a couple of beers?”
“I do,” Caleb says. “The girls left behind some cheap ass tequila from that party they had at our house.”
Tony sends him a look, but otherwise remains quiet.
“I’m coming straight over then after we’re done here,” I tell them, sipping from my boring ass soda cup.
“I take it your conversation with Ellie didn’t go over so well,” Eli says.
“Your observation would be correct.” I scowl in her direction, my gaze dropping to the perfection that is her ass.
I look away before I become too fixated on it.
“Coming over to our house to get blindingly drunk won’t help matters,” Tony says, ever the logical one.
“It’ll help me cope,” I say with a halfhearted smile.
“Do you really need alcohol to cope, Jackson? If that’s the case, you have a bigger problem than just Ellie,” Tony continues.
“I don’t need you giving me shit tonight,” I mutter, glaring at the table. If I look at Tony too long, I might get pissed at him, and I don’t want that. I like the guy. It’s not his fault I’m in such a foul mood.
My bad mood is like a wet blanket draped over all of us. We’re downright somber as we wait for our food and I blame myself, though I’m also blaming that dick Caleb for bringing up Ellie’s date with Carson in the first place. Deep down, I know I’m just shooting the messenger or however that saying is supposed to go. I shouldn’t be mad at Caleb for telling me.
I should be upset with Ellie that she went on a date with someone else.
Though really? I guess I shouldn’t. We’ve never once defined what we are. Currently, we are friends. Who kiss on occasion. I gave her an orgasm once. I’d like to give her a bunch more, and I’d love it if she gave me a few as well. Could that ever happen?
I’m hopeful. But she might let my ass down easy tonight. She might like Carson, and want to pursue something with him. He’s the better guy for her. I know this. I can’t guarantee shit. I have too much going on, and I’m anti-commitment, while she is the poster child for a long-term relationship. You look up commitment in the dictionary and there’s a photo of her above the definition with the caption, ‘This is the type of girl you look for as a wife’.
Yeah. That’s Ellie. She doesn’t want a one-night stand or a couple of quick hook ups. She’s the real deal.
By the time we get our food, we’re a little more talkative, though we’re consuming food at an efficient rate so not much is being said anyway. Caleb takes off to go flirt with a girl who’s in one of his classes and the second he’s gone, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’m pissed at him,” I tell my remaining friends.
“You shouldn’t be,” Tony says in defense of Caleb. “I hate how he said it, like he wanted to taunt your ass, but I’m pretty sure he’s telling you the truth.”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t lie about that,” Eli adds.
I stare at Eli hard, but he won’t look me directly in the eyes.
Hmmm.
“What do you know?” I ask him.
His gaze barely meets mine before he looks away again. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” I murmur, lightly pounding my fist against the edge of the table. “Tell me, Eli. Did Ava say something to you?”
He sighs. Shakes his head. Takes a sip of his drink. Stalling like crazy. I practically growl in frustration before he finally opens his damn mouth.
“Fine. What Caleb said was true. Ellie did go out with that guy to the movies. It happened Monday,” Eli confesses.
I frown. “A few days ago?”
He nods. “All the girls encouraged her to go, including mine. Ava told me about it last night.”
“And you didn’t think you should tell me?” I ask incredulously.
“I didn’t want to, because I knew you’d act like this,” Eli says. “You’re all pissed off, but come on. You two aren’t actually together. You hooked up with her once and haven’t really talked to her much since. She figured you lost interest.”
Say the fuck what? “When did I ever act like I’ve lost interest? I’ve been busy. Just as busy as the rest of you.” My gaze scans the table, and Tony and Eli just shrug. “I’ve been talking to her at night. We text almost daily.”
“Right. Like usual. Like you used to. She truly believes she’s been regulated back to her old position in your life. The girl ‘good enough’ to be friends with, but ‘not good enough’ to date or whatever.” Eli waves a hand, his expression vaguely disgusted. “I sound like a girl. I need to stop hanging out with them all the time.”
When is Eli hanging out with them all the time? He makes no damn sense.
My gaze switches to Tony, who’s watching us with an impassive expression on his face, still eating. Quiet as usual, the broody motherfucker. “What do you think about all of this?”
He swallows his food down before he says, “I think you need to make a move, son.”
My brows shoot up. I expected some long, thoughtful observation, which is Tony’s normal style. “On Ellie?”
“No, on some other random girl. Yes, of course on Ellie. Haven’t you wasted enough time? She’s been patiently waiting for you, and when you finally realize you might have feelings for her, you toy with her for a little bit, and then you back way off.” He shakes his head, setting down his sandwich. “I know it’s some scary shit, committing yourself to one girl, but you can do this. It’s not so bad. It’s actually pretty fucking amazing when you find the right one.”
I contemplate the two of them. My two closest friends who have girlfriends. Who are perfectly happy being with just one woman. One is so over the top in love with his girl, he acts the fool over her most of the time. And the other one is calm and cool, and only ever seems truly happy when she’s in his presence.
That wouldn’t be so bad, right? Why am I being such a dumbass about this?
“Because you’re afraid to love,” Tony says, as if he can read my mind.
Or maybe I said that last part out loud. Yeah, that must’ve been it.
My mind drifts to Diego, the most committed one of all. He has a kid for the love of God, and he’s happy. Perfectly content playing house with Jocelyn and their baby girl. That is some overwhelming shit right there, but he’s never questioned it. Was never tempted to back out either. He wanted it. Wanted her and the life they now have. He seems happy too.
“I’m not afraid to love,” I scoff, leaning away from the table. My appetite evaporates. Actually, my stomach is twisted in knots, and that can’t be good. “I just see no reason to tie myself down at this age.”
“You won’t look at it as tying yourself down if you actually fall in love with her,” Eli says, sounding logical for once in his damn l
ife. “Look, I’m ridiculous when it comes to Ava. I love that girl more than anyone else in the world, and it’s killing me that we’re not living in the same area code right now, but I fucking love her. And I will do whatever it takes to keep loving her, even if we’re apart. It sucks, but she’s worth it.”
Ellie comes into view, striding across the restaurant with purpose, her gaze going to our table every few seconds. Enough times that our gazes finally snag. Catch. She smiles at me, heading toward the back of the restaurant and, without thought, I rise to my feet.
And follow after her.
My steps determined, I’m directly behind her in seconds. Close enough that I can reach out and touch her.
So I do.
She whirls on me, my fingers still clasped loosely around the crook of her elbow. She tilts her head back, her expression neutral, reminding me of a queen.
“If you’re mad at me, I can’t get into an argument with you right now, Jackson. I’m on the clock,” she says haughtily.
Huh, so now she’s mad too? Okay, I can play this game.
“I don’t want to argue,” I say, which is the truth. “I just want to know something.”
“Oh.” She seems surprised. “What do you want to know?”
“Is it true? You went on a date with Carson?” I keep my voice level. Calm. Inside, I’m anything but. My thoughts, my emotions are in chaos. Just having her this close, barely touching her, is sending me into a tailspin.
A sigh leaves her and she drops her head, staring at her feet. I wait for her to say something, the blood roaring in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. She is taking way too long to answer a simple question.
“Yes,” she tells her feet. “I couldn’t put him off forever, waiting for you to make a move. So I went out with him.”
She was putting him off for me? Yeah right. “How was it?”
She shrugs one shoulder but says nothing.
I crowd her, until her back is against the wall and I’ve got my hand braced above her head, leaning into her, my other hand playing with the end of one of her braids. “How was it?” I repeat. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“The movie was good,” she whispers.
“Did he touch you?” I have no business asking her this. What does it matter if he touched her? She’s not mine.
Yeah, the little voice inside my head says. Keep telling yourself that.
“He held my hand afterward,” she admits, her voice soft. “When we walked through the parking lot to his car.”
I tamp down the overwhelming emotion that threatens to take over. So what if he held her hand. It’s no big deal.
But it makes me angry, thinking of him touching her. Worse?
It fucking hurts.
“Did he kiss you?” My voice is raw, and I clear my throat, hating how fucking needy I sound. Like if she admits that they kissed, I’ll fall apart.
Her gaze never straying from mine, she slowly shakes her head.
Relief floods me and I nearly sag. But I keep myself upright. Act like none of this shit is bugging me.
I can’t resist touching her though. My fingers find her chin. Trace her jaw. She closes her eyes and swallows hard, and I’d give anything to kiss her. Reassure her.
Reassure her of what? That I still want her? Pretty sure it’s fairly obvious.
More like I need the reassurance she still wants me.
My hand drops and I back away from her, giving her space. Giving me space. “Do you like him?”
“Who?” She frowns. “Carson? I mean, he’s nice. He really likes me. And he doesn’t mind letting me know that either.”
Ouch. Fucking direct hit.
Ellie, one. Jackson, big fat zero.
“Do you want to be with him?” I brace myself, waiting for her answer.
“Do you want to be with me?” she throws back in my face.
“You answer first,” I say, sounding like a little kid.
“I don’t know.” She pauses. “Maybe.”
A growl leaves me and I thrust my hand into my hair, gripping the back of my head. “What the fuck, Ellie?”
“No. You don’t get to act like this. I should be the one who’s saying ‘what the fuck’.” She reaches out, pushing at my chest, sending me stumbling backward. “What are we doing, Jackson?”
“What do you mean?”
“Me and you. What are we doing?” A ragged exhale leaves her and she shakes her head. “I promised myself I wouldn’t have this conversation with you right now.”
She tries to leave and I grab hold of her arm, stopping her. “We’re having it.”
“I’m working,” she reminds me.
“You started it.”
“I did not!” She’s positively indignant.
“You did,” I say, immediately realizing we’re just going round and round.
“You never answered my question,” she says. “Do you want to be with me?”
I do.
The two words come to me, unbidden. Automatic. That’s what I want to say, but fuck.
Should I say that? She could reject me for that Carson dude and I’ll be left standing here with my heart in my hands, and she’ll shove it back at me a broken, shattered mess.
Jesus, I really have turned into fucking John Mayer. I love that guy. He’s a great song writer, but sappy as shit sometimes.
“Well?” she says, her tone hostile.
I bite back the words I want to say. Out of habit. Out of self-protection. I want to admit to her what I want. But it’s like…
I can’t.
“That’s what I thought,” she says after too many beats of silence. “I can’t keep chasing after you, Jackson. And you have to stop counting on me always being there for you. There’s nothing in it for me. You get it all.”
“Ellie—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “There’s no point in us talking tonight. You can figure out your shit on your own. I’m tired of trying to help you. Of being your support system all the time, when it’s like you can’t even see me. And you don’t get to be jealous of a guy when you won’t ever make a move on me. Your arrogance is—annoying.”
“Annoying?” I laugh. I can’t help it. “You don’t think I see you? I see you every goddamn day, Ellie. You haunt my thoughts. You’re in my dreams. I think about you when I jerk off, for Christ’s sake. I see you. I see all of you.”
I’m breathing hard. So is she. Her gaze drops to my mouth, as if she wants me to kiss her, and so I give in.
I kiss her.
Like I can’t help myself.
The moment my lips crash down on hers, she responds. Her hands curl into the front of my T-shirt, trying to pull me closer. I give her what she wants, pressing her against the wall, my body flush with hers, our mouths fused. Hungry. Tongues tangling. I touch her face. Her hair. Her shoulder. Her chest, cupping her breasts. She fits perfectly in my palm and I press harder, making her moan into my mouth.
Just as fast as I kissed her, I back away, ending it all. Her eyes open and she watches me warily, her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. She says nothing.
“I see you,” I repeat. “But my question is, do you really see me, Ellie?”
She doesn’t answer.
So I walk away.
Twenty-Four
Ellie
“Are you excited about Jackson’s show tonight?” Ava smiles at me in the mirror, her entire expression joyful. She’s so glad to be home. With us. With Eli. I’m glad she’s here too. I’ve missed her terribly.
But my mood is terrible. I can’t stop thinking about my little argument with Jackson last night. The words we said to each other. The way he kissed me.
I wasn’t that mad about our not seeing each other much over the last few weeks. I get it—we’re both busy. But I hated how jealous he got over Carson. Yes, I can admit it didn’t feel right going on that date with him. I shouldn’t have done it at all. Carson is sweet. He’s a good guy.
I just don’t think he
’s the guy for me.
Even though I went on a date with him, it doesn’t give Jackson the right to act like a jealous asshole and demand I stop seeing Carson. Not that he ever said stuff like that. But his obvious jealousy infuriates me. If he wants to actually be with me, he needs to tell me. He needs to do something about it. Maybe I made things worse, but I don’t know.
I feel like we both made things worse, and now I’m nervous. Maybe we’re not made for each other after all.
Maybe this will never work.
“Are you okay?” Ava asks when I still haven’t said anything. “You seem down.”
“I’m fine.” I turn to face her, a weak smile pasted on my face. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”
She pulls me into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you too. And I’ve known you long enough to know there’s something bothering you. What’s wrong?”
I pull away from her, waving my hand dismissively. “I’m fine. I don’t want to ruin your mood.”
“If you’re not happy, I’m not happy. End of story.” She grabs hold of my shoulders and gives me a gentle shake. “Is it Jackson?”
I nod, exhaling loudly. “He’s such a prick.”
“Is he now?” Ava arches a brow, sounding amused. “So tell me. Have you seen his prick yet?”
I laugh. That was just the thing I needed to hear. “No. But I’ve felt it.”
She gapes at me. “You haven’t seen it?”
“We haven’t done much.” I shrug.
“You said you hooked up. He fingered you.”
I hate how my friends say fingered. It’s kind of—ick. “I never did anything to him.”
“What? Unbelievable.” Ava shakes her head. She and Eli have been sexually active since she was sixteen. Those two go at it all the time. “Jackson needs to make a move.”
“That’s pretty much what I told him.” I explain everything that’s happened between us to Ava. Like break it all down, right there in the middle of my bathroom while we get ready for Jackson’s performance at Strummers tonight. I wanted to back out, but it would look weird if I didn’t show when all the rest of our friends will be there. Diego and Jocelyn even got a babysitter for Gigi so they could go. If I didn’t show my face, the gang would know something’s up.
The Sophomore Page 21